The Endangered Species Act
by slipperystone
Summary: Spock receives an unsettling order from Starfleet regarding his duty to the surviving Vulcans. This story assumes more that 10,000 survivors, but not by much.
1. The Endangered Species Act, Part 1

**The Endangered Species Act, Part 1**

"Oh hell," McCoy muttered under his breath as he waited for Spock to arrive in Sickbay. He checked the chronometer on the wall for what he felt must have been the hundredth time. Spock's appointment was in three minutes, and McCoy knew that he would be exactly on time. Not early like some or late like most. Oh no, that damn pointy-eared bastard would walk through the door at precisely 1730 hours, which gave McCoy three more minutes to sweat this one out. He hated being the bearer of bad news. How in the hell was he going to explain this to Spock?

Should he try to lighten the mood and deliver the information with an attempt at levity? No: humor would be lost on Spock, and this was going to be a punch in the gut anyway. There was no need to deliver it with a punch line. Should he just be blunt and blurt it out? That wouldn't work either. This was a delicate subject and as much as Spock sometimes got under his skin, he deserved at least some dignity in this. Not that there was much to be had under these circumstances, but still… Maybe he should just hand Spock the PADD as soon as he walked in and let him read the order for himself. Spock would want to see it anyway, and he could take himself completely out of the loop. McCoy shook his head. No, Spock needed to actually hear the news from someone, not just read those cold, precise words: "_After careful consideration, we have decided that the logical course of action is to_-" He snorted to banish the words from his mind. "Logical my ass," he muttered under his breath.

McCoy glanced at the chronometer again: 1729 hours. Almost time. He opened his desk drawer one last time and made sure that the PADD was still there. He hadn't touched it since he'd put it there hours ago when he'd come on duty, but there was a comfort in double-checking, even if was at least the tenth time that he'd done it. With a grumble, he shut the drawer and walked out of his office into Sickbay.

There were several crewmembers already seated on biobeds, each waiting in turn for examinations and subsequent injections. At the far end of Sickbay, Chapel was finishing up with an ensign. McCoy watched as she placed her tricorder on the bed next to her patient and picked up a hypo from the nearby tray. "This may sting a bit," she said as she pressed the hypo to the side of his neck.

"Ow!" the ensign yelped as the hypo discharged. McCoy gave the man the best sympathetic smile he could muster under the circumstances. The ensign frowned and rubbed the injection site as he slid off the biobed and made his way towards the doors. Chapel moved to the next bed where a young woman from the Sciences Department was patiently waiting her turn when McCoy heard the doors slide open. He turned to face the doors and suppressed a sigh as Spock walked through them. 'Time to get this over with,' McCoy thought.

"Hello there, Commander Spock," McCoy said with a too-wide smile and forced cheer as the Vulcan entered the room, neatly avoiding the exiting crewman. "We could set the chronometers around here by you, I swear. Say, I need to speak with you for a moment. Would you mind coming with me please?"

Spock stopped his advance towards the empty biobed in the corner, one eyebrow on the rise, and looked at him. "Doctor McCoy, may I inquire as to why-"

"Why sure you can," McCoy interrupted, not willing to go into anything in front of other people. He would spare Spock that much. "Inquire all you want- _in my office_." Without waiting to see if Spock was following, he turned towards his office and walked inside.

As McCoy made his way behind his desk, Spock entered. McCoy took his seat and motioned for Spock to take the one on the other side of the desk as the door swished shut behind him. When he remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back, McCoy knew that this wasn't going to go smoothly.

"Doctor," Spock said, "Since it would be illogical for you to invite me into your office merely to administer my quarterly contraceptive injection, there must be another reason you have asked me to join you here. I would like to know that reason."

"Got someplace to be, Spock? What's the rush? Got a hot date tonight or something?"

He expected some kind of verbal reply from Spock, but when he said nothing, simply continued standing quietly on the other side of the desk, McCoy realized that he'd hit the nail on the head and Spock did indeed have a date tonight. Cringing inwardly for his lack of tact, McCoy leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"Okay, well, let's get this over with then. You're right, I called you in here to talk about that shot of yours. And you need to sit down, 'cause this is gonna take a little time. The sooner we get started, the sooner you can be on your way."

Spock's brows rose ever so slightly at McCoy's words. The doctor watched as Spock quietly sat down, a very slight and subtle air of impatience about him. 'Yeah, you definitely don't want to keep her waiting, do you Spock?' McCoy thought. Hell, who could blame him?

"Spock…" McCoy began, and paused, still uncertain how best to proceed. Across the desk, Spock regarded him with curiosity. 'Oh hell,' McCoy thought as he looked away, unable to meet the Vulcan's eyes. He turned back to find Spock still looking at him.

"Look…" he tried again, noting that Spock's eyebrow was on the rise again. "I don't know how to tell you this…"

"It would be best if you came to the point, Doctor. Time is of the essence, as you have pointed out." Spock sounded just a trifle irritated to McCoy's ears. McCoy frowned slightly and decided that he was right.

"Fine then. I'm afraid that I can't give you a contraceptive injection. I have orders from Starfleet that say otherwise."

"Indeed," Spock said. "To what purpose would Starfleet Command issue such an order? Is this an order affecting all members of the crew, or does this order pertain only to me?" McCoy couldn't help but feel sympathy for him.

"It's just you. It seems that Starfleet has received a request from what is left of the Vulcan High Council not to give them to you. Apparently, they have decided that they need your help rebuilding the species. In light of what has happened, Starfleet has chosen to honor their request."

Spock stared levelly at him from the other side of the desk. "What precisely do you mean, Doctor?" he said slowly. "What kind of assistance do they require?"

"They want you to provide them with... ah... biological help," McCoy replied, the words coming out in a rush after that. "I can't give you your shot because they need you to be fertile so that you can assist in the reproduction of the Vulcan species."

Silence hung between them for several seconds. McCoy watched as Spock frowned slightly and looked away, apparently gazing at some point over McCoy's left shoulder. When he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers together in front of his chest, McCoy knew that he was deep in thought.

"That order was issued to all Vulcans of childbearing age six point three seven months ago," Spock said at last, his words coming out slightly slower than normal, which McCoy had learned meant that he was suppressing his emotions. "I was not included as it was felt that my assistance would put them at a… disadvantage."

Something about the way Spock hesitated as he said that last word didn't sit well with McCoy. It seemed to carry some kind of extra weight, like it somehow addressed more than just the present situation. Spock had left Vulcan at a fairly young age: could there have been more to it than a desire to join Starfleet? Vulcans weren't exactly the most tolerant of the Federation's species, and growing up as a hybrid among them couldn't have been easy. Perhaps a little gentle probing could clue him in.

"Well, they don't feel that way any more, Spock," McCoy drawled. "Of the approximately twenty-two thousand Vulcans left, only sixty-three percent of those individuals are fertile, mostly due to age. "

"Sixty-two point seven four," Spock corrected him automatically, still not meeting his gaze. Red alert alarms were beginning to go off in McCoy's head. This wasn't good.

"Alright, sixty-two point seven four percent then. Whatever. Either way, that's an awfully small genetic pool from which to draw, especially if you're looking at rebuilding an entire species. I guess they've broadened their scope a bit and are now willing to accept help from those whom they may have rejected before."

McCoy watched Spock carefully as he silently sat across from him, staring off into space as he processed the information. He thought he could see just the tiniest tightening around the corners of Spock's eyes. There was no doubt that he was taken aback by this turn of events. But there was also something deeper there, some underlying pain as well, if McCoy was any judge. He wondered how many times Spock had been subjected to the proverbial slap in the face because of his mixed heritage, something that he had no control over.

Now here was another one. At first, they didn't want him because he wasn't entirely Vulcan and his pedigree wasn't up to snuff. They had issued the mandate to everyone else and had left him out. Now, after careful consideration, they were going to be so gracious as to allow- no, _order_- him to breed with them. Lovely. McCoy wondered if it had been done by design, if that's what the Vulcans had intended all along, to make Spock play nice, leave Starfleet like he had originally intended after the loss of his homeworld, and come back to the fold.

"I see," Spock said after a moment. "How to they intend to accomplish this?"

"It'll take six weeks for the effects of the contraceptives to wear off completely," McCoy replied. "At that time, you come back, we extract the material, and ship it off to the colony. It's a pretty simple procedure, really. Over and done with in five minutes. Once that's done, you can have your shots back."

"And what if I refuse?" Spock said calmly and quietly as he turned to stare pointedly at McCoy. Shocked, McCoy could only stare back at Spock. His expression was carefully controlled, but his gaze was hard and steely. McCoy felt pinned.

"What?" McCoy yelped. "_Refuse_? Spock, Starfleet orders aren't optional! You obey them or you get your ass court-martialed! Simple as that! You know that!"

"I do indeed," Spock replied coolly. "But I have reasons for asking about the consequences I should face if I decline to comply with this order from Starfleet."

"What, personal reasons or something?" McCoy asked, incredulous.

Spock merely raised one brow in reply, making McCoy shake his head and snort in derision. Without taking his gaze off of Spock, he reached down, opened the drawer, and withdrew the PADD with a muttered curse.

"Well, it doesn't go into explicit detail about what you'd be up against, but since it is a court-martial offense to disobey a direct order, I'd say that at the very least you'd get a reduction in rank or an administrative job," he said. He placed the PADD on the desk in front of Spock and continued. "At worst, they'd ship you off to program computers on some penal colony at the hind end of space."

He watched as Spock reached for the PADD and picked it up, quickly scanning the message. McCoy had read it enough times that he knew most of it by heart.

He gave Spock a moment to glance over the signed order from Admiral Komack. But when he saw the Vulcan scrolling down the PADD, obviously intending to read the attached request from the Vulcan Council and the protests from Admiral Pike right there, McCoy got up and leaned back against the bulkhead. He cleared his throat to get Spock's attention. When the Vulcan looked up at him, McCoy pointed to the PADD.

"Put that down for a minute, Spock, you can read the rest later. I've got a few things that I need to say to you." Quietly Spock laid the PADD down on the desk.

"This whole situation is really screwed up," McCoy said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Personally, and off the record, I don't agree with these orders, not one damn bit. It's your body and what's left of your planetary government should have no say over your reproductive freedom. But in this case my hands are tied. As much as I'd like to, I can't give you your contraceptive shot."

McCoy noticed that the tightness around Spock's eyes had relaxed a bit. Good. Maybe now he could say the next part without getting his head torn off.

"That said, I can understand where the Vulcan Council is coming from. I don't like what they're doing, but I don't see as they have a whole lot of choice, either. They're looking at the possible extinction of the Vulcan species and they are doing everything that they can to prevent it. This is all about _survival_, living to see the next day, or the next generation. Right now, they can't afford the luxury of morality, or allowing sentient beings to choose to procreate, or not, as they wish. 'Personal reasons' don't enter into this equation, not for you, not for anybody. They need new members of the species to replace the ones that they've lost, and they need them now. The Vulcan Council is making the hard call and living with the consequences. At this time, this is the right thing for them to do. That doesn't have to mean that anyone has to like it."

Spock gave him a thoughtful look. After a moment, he said, "You are correct on all counts, Dr. McCoy. It has been said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. As distasteful as it may be, this is… the logical course of action."

"Indeed it is," McCoy said as he pushed away from the bulkhead and approached Spock. "You know, as bad as you think you've got it, you don't have it as bad as some others. You should thank your lucky stars that you're not female. You'd probably be pregnant right now."

Spock's eyes widened at that comment. Clearly, he hadn't considered what the female members of his species were being forced to endure. All Spock had to do was provide a test tube of semen and he was done. 'He has it easy', McCoy thought.

"Spock," McCoy said gently, "this thing stinks to high heaven. But it is what it is and there ain't a damn thing that anyone can do about it. Why don't you take the PADD with you, read it over, and sit down and think about it for awhile. You've still got six weeks before you're due back here, so you've got some time. Talk to Lieutenant Uhura about this. I'm sure she'll have some insight."

"I fully intend to speak with the lieutenant about this matter," Spock said as he stood up and tucked the PADD under his arm, clearly ready to leave.

"You know, she's due for her contraceptive shot next month. It's great that you're both doing your part and being responsible and mature adults, but there's no need for the two of you to double up on something like this. One shot covers both of you in this case."

Spock stopped and turned around to look at him, the ghost of some expression fleeting across his features. "Thank you, Doctor. I shall take it under advisement." The door swished open as Spock turned away and McCoy followed him out into Sickbay.

As Spock exited Sickbay, McCoy noticed that Ensign Chekov sat on the nearest biobed. He waved Chapel off and took the hypo from her as he walked over to the youngest member of the crew.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" McCoy said as he leaned into Chekov's youthful face. "You're only seventeen! Have you even got a girlfriend yet?"

"I vill be eighteen next month," Chekov beamed. "And vhile I do not have a girlfriend yet, someday some young lady vill be lucky enough to catch me."

"Don't you mean someday _you'll_ get lucky?" McCoy grumbled good-naturedly.

"Vell, yes," Chekov answered, not at all deterred. "It vill be a lucky day for us both."

"Well, c'mon Lucky, time to get your shot," McCoy said. "At least when some young lady does finally manage to catch you, we won't have babies having babies. Now this won't hurt a bit..."


	2. The Endangered Species Act, Part 2

BThe Endangered Species Act, Part 2/b

Spock cleared the small table in his quarters in preparation for Nyota's imminent arrival. She was not due to arrive for another eighteen point nine minutes, but she was frequently early, and he wanted everything to be ready for her. He carefully removed the three-dimensional chessboard and placed it on top of the low shelf beside his bed. He and the captain had yet to finish the game and he did not wish to disturb any of the pieces. Kirk was an excellent player, even if his approach to the game was extremely unorthodox. Spock found that he was challenged by the game, a rare occurrence in and of itself, as well as fascinated by the inner workings of Kirk's mind. He wanted to preserve the opportunity to explore both fields simultaneously.

He turned back towards the table and caught sight of the PADD that McCoy had given him lying on his desk. He would need to discuss the information that it contained with Nyota. Certain it would be a difficult conversation, he hoped to delay it for as long as possible. With a slight frown, he turned his back to the desk and the PADD and busied himself with the arrangement of place settings on the table.

Once they had settled into shipboard life, Nyota had insisted they reserve every seventh evening for time alone together, ship's business and crises permitting. They'd had a similar routine at the Academy and Spock was pleased that she wanted to continue the custom. Indeed, her presence would be a great comfort to him tonight.

Once the places were set, Spock headed to the mess hall to procure their meals. As he walked through the corridors of the _Enterprise_, he found it impossible to keep thoughts of the conversation he'd had with McCoy from his mind. The order from Starfleet Command and the Vulcan High Council affected him much more than he cared to admit.

The fact that he had been ordered to assist in the Vulcan repopulation efforts meant things were not proceeding according to plan. McCoy was right: the genetic pool was small, barely above the threshold level for sustainability. Immediately after the destruction of his homeworld, he had been willing to put aside everything he had worked for to assist them. He had even been willing to leave Nyota's side, much as it distressed and saddened him, to give them whatever aid they needed. But then he had encountered an older version of himself from an alternate universe in the shuttle bay at Starfleet Headquarters, a meeting that had changed everything.

His elder self urged him to follow his feelings instead of his logic and went to great lengths to get him to stay in Starfleet, offering to serve their people in his place. Their brief exchange had left Spock puzzled. His counterpart had even gone so far as to bring up Kirk's name in their conversation as part of the enticement to get him to stay. Why did he not invoke Nyota instead? How could a friendship with Kirk outweigh his relationship with her? In the end, he decided to take the advice of his counterpart, returning to the _Enterprise_ to serve as her First Officer and be with his beloved Nyota, the other half of his heart and katra.

His people had apparently taken his actions as a rejection.

When the original request for repopulation assistance had been issued, Spock had expected to be included in it, but instead he was left out. The request had specifically stated that only fully Vulcan individuals were being called upon to join in the efforts. As he was the only Vulcan hybrid known to exist, it was obvious that _his_ contribution was not wanted. He could see the logic in their reasoning: if Vulcans were to survive as a species, they could not afford dilution of their genome with any other species, at least not for several generations. A part of him had recognized the slight for what it was, but mostly he felt what could only be termed relief. He had been, as his mother would have said, "let off the hook". He would not need to give voice to his reasons for declining. But that was before some of the survivors had objected to the manner in which they had been ordered to procreate.

Fewer than ten thousand Vulcans had escaped from their doomed world in those final moments, meaning that most of the surviving members of the species were offplanet when it had been destroyed. While many of them had plans to return to Vulcan when their work or studies ended, some had left by choice because they did not wish to conform to the strictures of Vulcan society.

Through his frequent communications with Sarek, Spock had learned that some of the survivors had decided not to leave the lives they had established elsewhere to join the colony. Others refused to conceive children with anyone other than a bondmate and only a very small number of bonded couples had survived. While many had taken new bondmates out of sheer necessity, some had no wish to do so, his father among them. Many Vulcan rituals and traditions centered upon family life: the pair-bond between mates was an integral part of their society. Some believed these values should be preserved, and a forced breeding program, while increasing their numbers in the short run, would erode what little was left of their culture. It was not logical, but he had found that logic seldom had much to do with the subject of procreation.

All of these factors had led to the present situation and the Council calling upon Starfleet to gain his aid. There were so few Vulcans left, barely enough to sustain the species, even if they all cooperated. While the vast majority readily agreed, enough had declined that they had reduced the small number of breeding Vulcans to a critical level and placed their long-term survival as a species in jeopardy. His help was needed. Indeed, without his help and the help of every single available Vulcan left in existence, it was entirely possible his species was on the slow, inevitable path to extinction.

Upon arriving in the mess hall, Spock pushed the thoughts from his mind and strode to the banks of replicators along the far wall. Before his Sickbay appointment, he had been hungry and had planned on selecting a Deltan dish Sulu had recently added to the ever-expanding menu, but his appetite had vanished. Food was the last thing that concerned him, but he and Nyota always began their evenings together with a shared meal. Despite his lack of appetite, he did not wish to break with this tradition. She would be hungry, having worked a ten-hour shift, and it would only be right to have a meal ready for her, even if he had no desire to partake of one.

Thoughts of what would please her led him to his selection, a simple Terran dish of linguine topped with sautéed zucchini and mushrooms. It was the dish he and Nyota had shared on their first evening out together once they had become romantically involved. He recalled the smile that had graced her features when the plates had been delivered to their table, almost twenty-three months ago, in the small, secluded restaurant Gaila had recommended. It was a treasured memory, one that always made him feel closer to Nyota, and he needed to feel that now. The small door opened, revealing two covered plates. He removed them from the replicator, placed them on a tray, and returned to his quarters.

Even if it were not for the fact that he was in a romantic relationship with Nyota, Spock would still have had misgivings about the order. He knew the challenges he'd faced growing up, the prejudices he'd endured: would his offspring also face the same obstacles, despite the desperate situation his people were in? He could not help but wonder if his children would be treated as inferior to their fellows simply because one of their parents was not entirely Vulcan. Part of him wanted to believe that his people would not repeat that pattern, but another part of him was concerned that this would indeed be the case.

And who would be there to defend his progeny? A female who had not chosen him, who had borne his child out of sheer necessity for the continued survival of the species? Perhaps, but this was a variable he had no control over and could not predict. As such, he had to rule out maternal protection. Would his father protect his offspring? Sarek has done his best during Spock's childhood, but he had often been offworld and unable to help. Even when he had been present, there had still been problems. No, he could not rely on Sarek either. What about his counterpart, who had adopted the title of Elder and the name of Selek? While it was true that they were genetically the same being, they were obviously not the same person. He could not count on his older self to watch over his offspring. The door chime sounded, drawing Spock out of his contemplation. With a sigh, he headed towards the door to greet his beloved.

Nyota was seven point eight minutes early, a normal occurrence for her. Instead of verbally commanding the door to open, Spock allowed the proximity sensors to register his presence. The door slid open, revealing Nyota standing in the corridor, hands behind her back, still in uniform. She smiled up at him as she entered. As the door slid shut, she draped her arms over his shoulders and gently kissed the side of his neck exactly where he should have received his injection. This was also a habit of hers, as though her kisses could soothe away the discomfort he often experienced with the procedure. He had to admit that he approved of her action, even if it did little to alleviate the soreness.

"I've been looking forward to tonight all week long," she said, looking up, her dark eyes warm and inviting. He circled her waist with his arms and drew her to him as he leaned down to kiss her, needing to feel the emotional warmth radiating from her. She eagerly returned his kiss, pressing her body close to his. After several more kisses, each longer and more passionate than the last, she placed shaky hands on his shoulders and pushed herself away. "If we don't stop now," she said, breathless, "I'm just going to throw you on the bed and forget all about dinner. Speaking of which, what did you pick? It smells delicious."

Spock released her and watched as she took her seat and removed the lid from the plate. Her slight smile did not escape his notice. He followed suit, but could do little more than pick at his food with his fork. He managed a few bites, which was all the knots in his stomach would allow. He could no more eat right now than he could breathe water.

"Those last two hours on the Bridge were awful without you there," Nyota said as she speared a small slice of zucchini with her fork. "I swear, Ensign Taylor is an idiot. I have no idea how he got out of the Academy, let alone how he ended up on the _Enterprise_. He botched not one but three reports. _Three_ of them! I thought I was going to have to work past my shift just to clean up his mess, but M'Ress volunteered to do it for me. I owe her one and you can rest assured she'll collect, probably the next time we get shore leave on Risa." She smiled at her own joke and Spock nodded in agreement. He listened to her talk for several minutes, letting the sound of her voice pour over him like a soothing balm. He began to wonder how he was going to broach the subject when she did it for him.

"Spock, what's wrong?" she asked, her fingers reaching out to brush lightly against his. "Don't try to tell me that nothing's bothering you, either. You've hardly spoken since I got here, you've only taken a couple of bites, and you've been pushing the same mushroom around on your plate for almost five minutes. Did the shot bother your stomach? Are you not feeling well?"

The warmth and concern in her eyes pulled at him. He took her long, graceful fingers in his hand and held them. She squeezed his fingers and he returned the gesture, grateful again for her presence in his life. There was no more avoiding the discussion now.

"I did not receive my injection today, Nyota," he replied softly.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, her grip on his fingers tightening in apprehension. He could feel her concern for his well-being washing over him through their physical contact and he felt a familiar tightness in his right side. That she could care for him so much never ceased to amaze him. "Are the shots causing problems?" It was a valid concern: Nyota's shots had caused her difficulty in the past, and his hybrid nature always made injections complicated.

"No, my health is not at issue," he replied, pulling his hand from hers. "Doctor McCoy was ordered not to administer it."

Nyota blinked, her concern changing to confusion. "'Ordered not to administer it?'" she echoed. "Why not? By whom?"

Spock rested his forearms on the table, steepled his fingers and looked down at them. He could not meet her earnest gaze, could not bear to see the anxiety in her eyes. It was difficult to say, even to Nyota. He felt as though some part of him was being stripped away, taken from him without his consent. Vulcans had rarely spoken about reproduction before the loss of their world, and now because of a grief-stricken madman they were not only forced to talk about it, but engage in it with other Vulcans they did not know simply to keep the species alive. He felt exposed, naked, and ashamed. But he had to talk about it, had to tell her … He looked at her again and swallowed around the dry lump in his throat.

"Starfleet received a request from the Vulcan High Council not to administer my injections," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "They have chosen to honor it. I have been ordered to assist in the repopulation of the Vulcan species, to give them biological assistance. They have ordered me to … procreate."

For a moment she was silent. He glanced at her to find that she was looking down, her gaze unfocused as she processed the unexpected news. As though she felt his gaze upon her, she looked up, and he saw confusion and something darker in her mahogany eyes.

"I don't understand," she said, her voice much softer than before. "I thought they didn't want you to participate … What changed? Why are they making you do this now?"

"We have spoken about the objections that some Vulcans have concerning the repopulation efforts," he said, his tone a match for hers. "A number have declined to assist. The loss of those individuals has reduced the number of available fertile adults to a critical level. Everyone is needed now, Nyota. Everyone."

"So why don't they order everyone to do it, then?" she said. "It seems to me that they should go after the ones that refused the order, not you. They caused the problem, they need to be held responsible and fix it."

"Most Vulcans who declined to participate have also declined to join the colony," he answered. "As such, the High Council has no legal recourse or influence over them or their actions. However, as I am in Starfleet and the colony has been acknowledged as a Federation member in Vulcan's place, the High Council was able to petition Starfleet to gain my aid."

"Against your _will_," she said, her voice harsh with anger. He looked at her again, catching the glint of fire in her eyes and the firm set of her delicate jaw. There was no doubt in his mind that she was furious with the situation.

"It's not right, Spock. They have no right to treat you like this, to just order you to do this without considering how you might _feel_…" She trailed off, shaking her head in frustration and disappointment.

"I am Vulcan," he said quietly. "One does not usually ask a Vulcan how we feel about something, as we do not consider feelings part of the equation."

"Well, I know better, and they should, too," she replied sharply. She looked down again briefly, obviously gathering her thoughts. Several times she appeared as though she were about to speak, but said nothing. He remained silent as well, knowing that she would give voice to her concerns when she was ready. Finally, she looked up at him and asked, "Do you have a copy of the order?"

"Yes, on my desk," he replied, watching as she nodded and pushed away from the table, plainly no longer interested in dinner.

He rose from his seat and walked over to his desk, with her following close behind. He handed her the PADD and she accepted it without comment. She turned and immediately headed towards the couch.

"All of the information regarding the order is there," he said to her retreating back. She mutely nodded her acknowledgement, her ponytail bobbing behind her as she walked off. She dropped onto the couch and immediately began scrolling through the contents of the PADD, clearly intent on reviewing all of the files.

After a moment, he followed her over to the couch and quietly sat beside her. She leaned forward as she held the PADD in her hands, her elbows perched on her knees as she read over the order from Starfleet and the attached request from the High Council. Several times she made small sounds of disgust. Once she openly cursed.

"Spock," Nyota said as she turned to him, the PADD clutched tightly in her right hand, "this is … _insulting_. The way this is worded- '_All individuals who bear __**any portion**__ of Vulcan DNA'_- is just flat-out demeaning and degrading! Spock, they're talking about _you_! It makes me so angry that they only want you for … for … breeding stock!"

"All your life, you've worked twice as hard just to be considered half as good by them and all they've ever done is treat you like _shit_! Look, I understand their problems and I know this is the 'logical' thing to do to ensure their survival, but the way they're going about it is all wrong. You're not a fish or an eel-worm, you're a sentient being, and it angers me that they're acting like you're some stockpile of genetic material that they can just dip into whenever it's convenient for them."

"And _this_," she continued, waving the PADD vigorously in her right hand, "says the 'unfortunate Human genetic contamination' would be negligible after four generations. 'Unfortunate Human genetic _contamination_'?! Jesus! Even when they're getting Starfleet to do their dirty work for them and they're claiming that they need your help just to survive, they're _still_ treating you like you're defective or damaged! You'd think they could treat you with some degree of dignity or respect, or maybe even _ask_ you if you want to participate instead of getting Starfleet to order you to do it! It's like they're afraid that you're going to say no and so they're making sure you can't! This is just … just … deplorable!" The PADD clattered noisily on the table as she dropped it in disgust.

Spock looked at her again, uncertain what to do. Nyota was clearly upset with how his people had handled this situation. She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it from her forehead all the way back to her ponytail, a sign of stress he had witnessed in her more than once. But she had hit on something essential: he did not want to participate in the breeding program that had been outlined by the Vulcans.

Perhaps it was obvious to them as well, as he had not joined them on the colony world. If he would not join them there, why would they think that he would willingly cooperate in efforts to repopulate the species, especially when they had already previously excluded him? Next to him, Nyota sighed heavily again, drawing him from his thoughts once more.

"I just can't believe your father would be party to this," she said, gesturing towards the PADD on the table with a curt wave of her hand. "He's one of the Elders: surely he could have had them make an exception in your case--"

"My father had no part in this. The directive shows that several Elders abstained, my father among them."

Her breath came out in a loud puff and she frowned, as though his answer was somehow unsatisfactory.

"Don't defend him, Spock. He didn't defend you. He said nothing when he could have used this as an opportunity to make a stand on your behalf," she muttered darkly.

"I believe that under the circumstances he chose the best option, Nyota," Spock replied. "He could not directly cast a negative vote without his judgment being called into question. I am his son: he cannot make an exception for me. If he does, then are all the Elders to do the same for their offspring? And what of the children of their children? Are exceptions to be made for them as well? How many more exceptions would be handed out? No exceptions can be made in this case, Nyota. My father is using me to set the example he wishes others to follow, which is what he has always done. It is obvious that he does not approve of their plan, but he could not directly say so, and instead has voiced his disagreement by choosing to abstain."

"All right, fine. So Sarek is ever the diplomat and has done the best he can. Bravo." She paused and fixed him with a look. "What about _him_?" she asked. He had no doubt to whom she was referring.

"Ambassador Selek abstained as well."

She snorted and shook her head. "Damn. You won't even give yourself a break … or will you?" He noticed her eyes widening as she bit her lower lip. He had seen this look before, the one her mother had told him was her 'crafty' look. Obviously, she had an idea.

"Spock," she said slowly, carefully, "is it at all possible that … _he_ would do this for you? You told me that when you saw him in the shuttlecraft bay, he said he had your responsibilities to the survivors covered. Well, what about this one? Do you think he'd be willing to provide a genetic contribution in your place?"

Spock looked at Nyota, catching the hopeful, fervent gleam in her eyes. He had already considered this possibility and it pained him to tell her his conclusions.

"Nyota," he said gently, "there are several reasons why he cannot do this for me. The Ambassador is considerably older than I am. I do not know if he is still fertile and it is not an easy topic to discuss. Even if he is and he was willing to take this responsibility for me, he would reveal himself as half-Vulcan and half-Human. As I am the only individual known to have that particular genetic makeup, the discovery that there was another such individual would draw unwanted attention and raise difficult questions. If I were in his position, I would do everything possible to avoid that discovery. There is also--" he began, but fell silent as she laid her hand on his upper thigh and gently squeezed. He had learned that this meant that not only did she want him to be quiet, but she wanted him to listen as well. He turned his gaze towards her and realized that her hopeful expression had vanished, replaced by one of sadness and defeat.

"I'm not saying he just gives it to them and reveals himself, Spock," Nyota said, not meeting his eyes. "There must be some way that we could get it to them and make it look like it's yours. We could have him meet us somewhere or invent some kind of diplomatic mission that he has to go on and we provide the transportation, something along those lines. There's got to be some way that he could do this for you … " She trailed off.

"You are speaking of committing an act of subterfuge," Spock said. He had caught more than one cadet in that act during his brief tenure as an instructor at the Academy, but had not thought to ever have to employ it himself. Although he would not put it past his elder self to try…

"Yes, Spock, I'm talking about cheating," she answered, her voice tight with resignation. "I know you consider it to be beneath you, but in this case … " She stopped and squeezed his thigh again. He watched as she dropped her gaze even lower, appearing to stare at the floor. "I guess I thought you didn't want to … oh hell, never mind what I thought. Or hoped. I guess … maybe you do. It is a kind of acceptance by them, after all. I … I can understand that." Her voice was now even more strained, and Spock knew from experience that she was on the verge of tears.

He reached down and picked up her hand from where it rested on his thigh and took it between both of his. She made a feeble attempt to withdraw it, but he would not allow her, needing a physical connection to her now more than ever. He could feel anger, confusion, and sadness emanating from her, but he was uncertain what had caused all of this. He needed clarification.

Gently, he lifted one of his hands from hers and moved it under her chin, tilting her head up so that he could see her face. Her jaw trembled and she looked at him for only a fraction of a second before she closed her eyes and pushed his hand away. Had he caused this pain in her?

"What did you hope, Nyota?" he asked softly, feeling a familiar ache in his side and a tightness in his throat. "Tell me. Please."

She bit down on her lower lip and sniffled, trying to hold everything in. But a single tear escaped her tightly shut lids and slid slowly down her cheek. He reached out and stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers and wiped the tear away. He could feel her pain like it was his own, raw and aching, in his katra.

"Spock, you almost left me," she whispered at last, her voice husky. "You almost went to the colony, to live with a group of beings that had done nothing but treat you as unworthy all your life. You almost left me because it was the _logical_ thing to do, because _they_ needed you. Never mind what _you_ needed, or what _I _needed. We made love the night before you were to leave and the whole time it was all I could do to keep from crying because I thought it was the last time. I thought I'd lost you."

She bit her lower lip again, her chin quivering as she fought more tears. She took a deep, steadying breath. "And then, when you walked on to the Bridge and told Kirk you wanted to be his First Officer, I thought I was going to explode from sheer joy. I couldn't stop smiling for days. And now … now they want you for … for _breeding stock_, and I'm sorry, but I can't be … what I'm supposed to be. I can't just stand by and not feel some kind of hurt. Not just for you and how they're treating you-- _again_!-- but for me as well. Oh God, Spock, I'm sorry but I'm not that strong. This _hurts_."

He began to move forward, wanting to take her in his arms, but stopped when she raised her hand in a harsh, negative gesture. He understood that she needed to say this and that she did not want to be comforted while she did so.

"I know that I'm supposed to be supportive in all of this. I know that I'm supposed to say, 'Yes, this is logical' and stand by you and your decisions and bury whatever I'm feeling, but this is hard, so hard … Not only do I love you, Spock, but I'm _in love_ with you. And try as I might, the thought of someone else having your child, even like this … hurts. Because now every time I look at a Vulcan child, I'm going to wonder if that's _your_ child, if those are _your_ eyes … " She trailed off and looked away, her hands twisting themselves into knots in her lap, her eyes bright with new, unshed tears.

"I'm sorry, Spock, I'm _so_ sorry. I know I'm being selfish and illogical and I don't have any right, but-"

"You have every right, Nyota," he whispered, reaching out and taking both of her hands in his and lacing his fingers with hers. "You are my ashayam, my beloved. You are mine as I am yours. You have every right, every claim, over my body and my katra." He tightened his grip on her hands, trying to convey his feelings for her by touch alone.

"When I encountered the Ambassador in the shuttle bay, he urged me to cast aside logic and do what felt right," he said. "I did as he suggested. I returned to _you_, Nyota. I feel this is my place."

"It does not 'feel right' to procreate with someone I do not know, who would not have chosen me if she had been given the choice. I have no desire to father children that I will never see. I want to have a hand in raising any children I sire. I want to be present in their lives."

"Nyota, I do indeed desire children." He looked deep into her eyes as he enfolded her hands in his. "I hope they will be yours."

A small gasp escaped Nyota's lips as her hands slipped from his and flew to her mouth. Spock watched as her eyes widened and new tears spilled unchecked down her dark cheeks. Had his words upset her? Had he inadvertently hurt her? But then he saw the corners of her lips curve upwards behind her hands, he knew that she was actually happy. When she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his, he was certain what she hoped for, and that once again, their desires were one in the same.

"Oh God, I love you," she whispered as she moved back and took his hands in hers. With a quiet smile brightening her face, she rose from the couch and pulled, bidding him to stand. He allowed her to slowly pull him up, but when he tried to take her in his arms, she shook her head and gradually began to walk backwards, his hands still held in hers, invitation in her warm eyes. He let her lead him through his quarters, his eyes never straying from hers as they made their way past the table and the desk. He followed as she lead him behind the privacy screen that separated his bed from the rest of his quarters. When she sat on the edge of his bed, he willingly let her pull him down beside her. As she slowly lay back on his bed, he followed her body down with his, pausing just long enough to order the lights to a much lower setting before he took her in his arms and claimed her lips with his…

Much later, he heard Nyota's voice, soft and sated, in the near darkness. He had thought she was already asleep. Their lovemaking had been especially passionate, infused with a newfound reverence for one another, and they had taken their time tenderly loving one another. It had been an intense and profound experience. Coupled with the emotional strains of the day, he was more than ready for sleep.

"We never talked about having children before. Are you certain you really want to have a child?" she asked, not lifting her head from the hollow of his shoulder.

"Yes," he replied, curling his arm around her shoulders, gently brushing aside a loose strand of her unbound hair. "I had not even considered the possibility of having children until I met you. That you desire this as well… honors me." It was not properly what he wanted to say, but conveying emotional concepts was still difficult for him. He would need to move past this, for her sake, sooner rather than later.

"You honor me, Spock," she said, wrapping her arms around him. He felt her left hand slide up the right side of his ribs and come to rest over his heart. He knew that she liked to feel its beat as she fell asleep. He held her close, kissing her forehead as she sighed tiredly in contentment.

"I want to have children, too, but I'm not ready to do it yet." Her voice was softer now, barely above a whisper, and slightly slurred. Clearly she was near sleep as well.

"Neither am I," he replied, feeling her smile against his skin.

"Good. That's settled them. I'll contact the Ambassador at the Colony tomorrow and see what he has to say about helping you out," she said as she stifled a yawn.

"Agreed, ashayam. He may say no, but at least we can try."

He waited for her to reply, but when all that answered him was the sound of her soft, slow breathing, he knew that she had finally fallen asleep. He should do the same.

He closed his eyes and relaxed. He did not know if the Ambassador would be able to assist him, or even if he could, but there was certainly no harm in asking. Indeed, given his elder self's proclivity for falsehood, it was entirely possible that this was what the Ambassador had hoped he would do all along.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock entered the small, temporary residence he shared with his father and ordered the lights on. He had considered spending the night again with Sarek at the hospital, but Doctor M'Benga had assured him that his father was making an excellent recovery from surgery. The doctor, on extended leave from Starfleet, had also said that if his prognosis remained unchanged that he would probably be released tomorrow, but would need at least another two weeks' worth of rest at home. Preparations needed to be made for Sarek's return, so Spock decided to forgo another night at his side and returned to their home instead.

The surgery had been to repair a malfunction in one of Sarek's heart valves. The defect was relatively minor and had not even shown up on routine medical scans. But Spock had suspected it was there- it had been in _his_ universe- and had insisted that Sarek should be more thoroughly examined. If events followed the same course in this universe as they had in his, the defect would become critical and life-threatening in another eight years' time. Add in the stresses and strains of setting up a new homeworld for their people and the defect could become worse, or could even happen sooner than it had before. Logic suggested that since he had knowledge of a potentially fatal condition in one of the few surviving members of their species, who was not only a fellow councilmember but was also his father, he must speak of it. Sometimes having foreknowledge of certain events worked in his favor.

As he moved about their home, he noted that the light on his terminal was blinking, indicating that he had new messages. This was not unusual, as he frequently received communications throughout the day, so he ignored it and continued about his business. It was not until later that night, just before he retired for the evening, that he checked them.

He sat down at the terminal with a warm cup of jasmine tea and scanned the ID tags. Most were from other Vulcans on the colony, wanting to consult with him about one matter or another. But when he saw the ID tag on the twenty-ninth message- _Starfleet, USS Enterprise, Commander Spock_- he raised an eyebrow. He rarely spoke with his younger counterpart and wondered what had prompted the call. Had he heard of Sarek's surgery and was now inquiring about his prognosis? Certainly this must be the case. Obviously, Sarek must have told him that he was having the procedure and now the younger Spock wanted an update on his father's condition, as was only logical. It was odd that Sarek had neglected to mention this to him, however… Taking a sip of tea, he decided the other messages could wait and viewed that communication first.

But the message did not mention their father at all. It was brief and almost terse, stating they needed to speak about a personal matter, and to contact him as soon as he was able. Spock stared at the image of his younger self on the screen, feeling his brows knit together in confusion. If the other Spock was being this curt, he was undoubtedly distressed. He had been the same when he was upset by something when he was that age. He thought about giving the younger Vulcan an immediate reply, but there was something odd about his demeanor, something he couldn't quite place, and he needed time to puzzle it out before he responded. He set a part of his mind to work on the task while he reviewed and replied to his other messages.

One hour and forty-seven minutes had passed by the time Spock finished viewing and answering the rest of his communications. He still was not entirely certain what was amiss with the other Spock and there was no way to make that determination without more information. However, with what little data he had to go on- the extreme brevity of the message and the request to speak about "personal matters"- he estimated a 66.479% probability that it had something to do with reproduction. He was aware that the Council had recently submitted an appeal to Starfleet requesting his counterpart's assistance with the breeding program, and it was possible that he wanted to speak with him on this subject.

Both he and his father had argued against the program at every turn. They regarded it as little more than slavery, but the Council did not see it as such. Multiple options had been discussed and debated over the following months. Some Elders felt the old ways should be kept, allowing the survivors to bear children as they chose, but others feared that their population would not grow quickly enough to sustain them. Sarek suggested that they should seek mates outside their species, as it was a well-known fact that they could breed with others. Spock had immediately backed his father, but their arguments were dismissed in short order.

The breeding program that the Council ultimately adopted was suggested by Sadan, a mathematician, and his bondmate T'Mas, who had worked in the field of genetics. They presented a detailed plan for quickly building a diverse population and sought to implement it immediately. Debate had been underway when T'Pol, who had not lived on Vulcan for some time but joined the colony when requested, quietly suggested that perhaps they should do nothing and follow those that had perished. She proposed that the only path they should follow was the one to extinction.

Spock heard the desolation in her voice and turned to look at her. She had returned his gaze, her expression shifting from resigned to curious to one of recognition. He had known her in his youth, had spoken with her about Starfleet just before he applied to the Vulcan Science Academy. That meeting had changed the course of his life. Now here he was, in what had only been a few years for her but obviously a great many for him, standing next to her on the stone floor of the council chamber as a fellow Elder. In that moment, he feared she would reveal him, which he could not afford, and looked away. Later, she sought him out and he privately confirmed her suspicions about his true identity, which led to a fascinating series of conversations… But this was not the time to ruminate about T'Pol and her powerful intellect. With a sigh, Spock returned his focus to the unknown "personal matters" at hand with his counterpart.

While it was possible that Spock's alternate self wished to discuss the breeding program with him, it was also possible that he was dealing with pon farr instead. The younger Vulcan had appeared agitated, even somewhat nervous… Was it possible that it was happening to him already, years earlier than he had experienced it? He was uncertain, but it was a possibility, however remote. But without more information any conclusion he might draw was little more than mere speculation. He required facts.

Since information was what Spock needed, that was exactly what he requested when he sent his reply to his counterpart. It was almost as brief as the one he had received. He said he would be tending to their father over the next few days, as he was recovering from surgery, but that he would be willing to discuss whatever "personal matters" concerned him. He also suggested to his alter that it might expedite the process if he directly stated what he needed to converse about, and that nothing was taboo. If it _was_ pon farr, there was no time to waste, and it would take 1.29 standard days at this distance for the message to even reach the _Enterprise_… He thought about sending a message to McCoy as well, but decided against it. If it was not pon farr and he alerted the doctor, the other Spock would be placed in a very awkward position. No, it would be best to keep his silence for now and await the younger Vulcan's reply. With that, he powered down the terminal and went to lie down for a few hours of sleep. His father would most likely be coming home tomorrow, and he needed to rest so that he could attend to Sarek's needs.

The reply arrived 2.68 standard days later. Looking at the timestamp on the message and accounting for transmission delays, Spock determined that his counterpart had responded almost immediately. Doing another quick mental calculation, he concluded that the message would have reached the _Enterprise_ in the middle of ship's night. Spock permitted himself a small frown at this. Whatever was bothering his younger self was evidently a matter of great importance and urgency. With a sigh, he steepled his fingers in front of his face, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, and ordered the computer to play the message.

"Ambassador, I thank you for your reply and for your information about Father," the commander said formally, his voice a little softer than normal. "I was unaware that he needed surgery." Spock looked at the image of his alter, who was obviously trying to control the surprise and dismay he was feeling at the news and failing. He sighed again. Had he ever been that young? It seemed impossible…

"Please keep me updated regarding his prognosis and health," the image of the other Spock said. "I wish to be informed of any changes in his condition as well. If you would relay my hopes for a rapid recovery to our father, it would be appreciated. I shall do so myself after I conclude this transmission, but I ask this of you in case several days elapse before he can view my message."

"That said, I wish to speak to you regarding the order I have been given to aid our people in the reproduction of our species. Simply put, I have no desire to participate. When we encountered one another in the shuttlecraft bay at Starfleet Headquarters, you stated that you would go in my place to assist our people. I realize this is a very personal query and I ask forgiveness beforehand for the intrusion on your privacy, but I need to know if you are able to do this in my stead. Please let me know as soon as possible. I understand that you have obligations to our people and our father, but I must have an answer shortly. Spock out."

Spock sat for a moment in stunned silence, completely taken aback by the other's request. His counterpart was younger and in better health than he was, a prime candidate to assist the remaining Vulcan population. So why did he want him to do this when he was so much better suited? And why did he say he "had no desire" to assist? Where did "desire" enter into the equation? He shook his head in dismay, wondering what twist this universe was throwing at him now…

He knew that he could sit there for the better part the day and wonder at his alter's motives, but he did not have the luxury of time. His father would be awake soon, and he had a full day ahead caring for him, not to mention catching up on the latest resolutions the Council was debating in his absence. No, he did not have time to consider this, not today. But he knew that the other Spock would be waiting for an answer.

His first thought was to let his counterpart taste silence for a few days, until Sarek was better recovered. The impudence of youth… how _dare_ he ask this… But after he'd had a cup of tea, he thought better of it and decided to send him a reply.

"Commander, I must admit that your request is somewhat unexpected, to say the least. I would like to know your line of reasoning behind this decision to ask me to contribute to the reproduction of our species in your place. Please, indulge me and explain your logic." He cut the recording and sent the transmission, knowing it would be approximately three days before he received an answer.

During that time, Spock pondered what possible reasons his younger self could have for making such a request while he tended to his father, who did not like his confinement. More than once, he had entered Sarek's room to find him sitting up in bed, working on some resolution or another on a PADD he had secreted somewhere in the room before his surgery. Twice Spock had taken them from him, gently admonishing his father not to tire himself while he was still convalescing. But after the third incident, he gave up trying.

He recalled Jim had once said they were both stubborn, and he had to concede that he was correct. He simply waited until Sarek fell asleep and then took the PADD and made a scan of the room with a tricorder borrowed from one of the Federation aid workers. He quickly located the other four PADDs Sarek had hidden in the room and removed them. When his father awoke, he returned the PADD he had confiscated, on the condition that he would only work on the material while he was present, and only up to one hour at a time for every five. Sarek, an ambassador used to negotiating, tried to bargain for three hours out of six. They finally agreed on one hour out of every four, and they quietly settled down to work together in companionable silence.

This universe was decidedly odd, Spock mused as he watched Sarek reading through Council documents. It was strange, being older than his own father, regarding the people who had been elders in his youth as contemporaries, and dealing with a younger version of himself who wanted him to procreate in his place. He shook his head and pushed the troubling thoughts from his mind.

Three days later, a message arrived from the _Enterprise_. Spock sat down at his terminal with a glass of warm, unsweetened lemonade and played the transmission, hoping that his alter had some reasoning that made sense.

"Ambassador, I understand your need for an explanation," the image of the younger Vulcan said. "Of the two of us, you are the logical choice for the breeding program. You live among our people and hold a respected position as an Elder. You would be able to help guide and shape the lives of the children you sire.

As I am serving onboard the _Enterprise_ and Starfleet does not allow children to reside on starships, I would be unable to be an active participant in the lives of any offspring that would come about as the result of my genetic contribution. I find this situation to be not only undesirable but also intolerable. I cannot help but believe that you and I would be of the same mind on this subject.

Also, it is worth noting that after the loss of Vulcan, I fully intended to resign my commission and join the survivors to help them rebuild our race. The only reason I did not do this is because you asked me to remain in Starfleet, saying that you would go in my place. Logically, one would conclude that you were willing to take on any duties to our people that would ordinarily fall upon me."

Spock paused the playback and considered. His counterpart had valid points and sound reasoning. He raised an eyebrow and nodded his head in agreement, then resumed the playback.

"While I have awaited your transmissions, I had the opportunity to conduct further investigation into several subjects. I noted that you abstained from the vote regarding my inclusion in the breeding program, yet you argued against the program in session. I am not certain why you would not continue your negative stance.

I have also discovered that you are not a participant in the program yourself. Upon further investigation, I have found that your medical records indicate you have sustained damage which has rendered you sterile and incapable of donating blood, bone marrow, and tissue samples. This examination was conducted by a Terran doctor named M'Benga, a physician on leave from Starfleet who is there with the relief workers." The image of the younger Vulcan paused and for a moment Spock felt as if he was being judged and found wanting. It was not a pleasant feeling.

"I believe this to be a convenient fiction, one which has been established to protect your true identity. I do not condemn you for this. In your position, I would seek to do the same, as your presence here in this universe would be extremely difficult to explain. Since you are exempted from the reproduction orders, you could easily do this in my place and raise no suspicions.

I am currently under orders to present a sample of genetic material for the colony in five weeks' time. If I do not submit, I face a court-martial and almost certain removal from the _Enterprise_ and James Kirk. You specifically asked me to stay in Starfleet and cultivate a friendship with him. I would ask that you assist me in this matter. Please, Ambassador, consider my words and inform me of your decision. Spock out."

Spock leaned back in his chair, his eyes staring at the screen in front of him but not seeing the images displayed. He had to admit that his counterpart had done his research and had valid arguments. His counterpart had even found information that was not publicly available, which could only mean he had broken into the medical records of the Vulcan Colony. He almost smiled at this: on more than one occasion, he'd found a 'back door' into an impenetrable system. In his time, he'd been one of the top computer experts alive. Undoubtedly so was his counterpart. When he had time, he would have to hack the Starfleet database and see what their records had to say about his alternate self…

He had asked the younger Spock to stay. The young Vulcan he had met in the shuttlecraft bay had been prepared to go and leave everything behind to aid and assist their people. Only his words, his emotional appeal, had stopped him.

He owed the other Spock this. Had he not implored his alter to stay in Starfleet, the young Vulcan would not be in this position now. He was the one who had placed this set of circumstances into motion. This was his to resolve.

He had already failed so many. Spock closed his eyes and saw again Romulus engulfed in the Hobus supernova, the destruction of Vulcan as it imploded and collapsed into the black hole. Each time he had been helpless, unable to stop the senseless loss. Each time he had failed. He could not fail again, and it would be so easy to help, to do this in his place…

He opened his eyes and took another sip of his lemonade, now gone cold. While his counterpart had valid reasons, he was certain that there was more here than what he was seeing. He sensed that there was some other reason not to participate that the other Spock was hiding from him. Very well. He could allow his counterpart to keep his own confidences. They each had their share of secrets. So long as they harmed none, then let them be.

Later that evening, he carried a tray with two bowls of curried pumpkin soup to Sarek's bedroom. It had been one of his mother's recipes, a favorite of both of theirs, and he could not help but think of her this evening. She would be proud of him for what he was going to do, he thought.

Spock carefully set the tray down next to Sarek in bed and took one of the bowls and a spoon for himself. He settled into the chair by the bed, dipped his spoon into the soup, and blew at the steaming contents.

"I wish to inform you," he said casually to Sarek, "that it appears I am about to become a father."


	4. The Endangered Species Act, Part 4

_Author's note: This is from Spock Prime's POV. This completes the story, and I hope you've enjoyed it. To those of you who have read it, thank you so much. Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated._

Five weeks after he had received the first message from his younger counterpart, Spock sat in one of the colony's single occupant shuttles, gazing out the viewport at the magenta and azure-hued clouds of gas that made up the Mutara Nebula. He had thought to never see this place again, except in his darkest dreams.

He had died here, once, in his universe. The _Enterprise_ had been crippled in battle, the warp engine mains knocked offline, and Khan had enabled the Genesis Device to be used as a weapon to wipe them all from existence. They all would have died there had he done nothing. He knew that he alone could withstand the intense radiation in the reactor chamber long enough to bring the mains back online and get them to a safe distance. He also knew that it would kill him. But he had been the captain of the _Enterprise_: it was his responsibility to ensure the safety and lives of his crew, even at the cost of his own. His sacrifice would buy their lives. It was not really so high a price to pay, not when you thought about it…

Sometimes, in his dreams, he was back in the chamber again, the corrosive ache of radiation gnawing at his bones once more. He could hear McCoy and Scott pounding fiercely on the other side of the transparent aluminum wall, pleading with him to get out before it was too late… He made a small noise of dismay and shook his head, chasing the memories away. That had happened, quite literally, in another life.

Spock gazed out at the nebula again, drawn by its beauty and its mystery. Deep inside those magnificent swirls of color, hidden away from view, gas clouds were condensing and collapsing, forming new stars, new worlds, and possibly new life. The _Enterprise_ had been assigned here to observe the process first-hand and to test a new sensor array that might make navigating emission nebulas such as this one easier. When he had learned three weeks ago that this was where he would rendezvous with the ship, he had almost laughed. True, he had died at Mutara, but he had also been reborn there as well, his damaged body reformed healthy and whole by the Genesis wave. Life would come from here again, only this time instead of being his life, it would be life that came from him. The irony of the situation did not escape him.

Spock checked the chronometer, although his internal time sense told him he had 1.37 minutes before the _Enterprise_ was due to arrive. He permitted himself a small, private smile. It had been a long time since he had seen the ship and her crew, and it would be good to see them again, even if they too had been altered by this universe.

Nothing registered on his instruments, which was to be expected. The emissions from the nebula played havoc with sensors, but this was the appointed place and the appointed time… Spock looked out again at the nebula in front of him. All appeared normal, but then he noticed a small increase in the internal luminosity of the cloud, just above and to the left of his direct line of sight. The glow was diffuse at first, but over the passing seconds resolved itself into several distinct points of light. He felt his heartbeat increase and his breath quicken as the points shrank and brightened from pale pink to white in a pattern very similar to a starship's running lights. His breath caught as the cloud began to swell and bulge, then parted to reveal the emerging edge of a silvery-white disk, followed by twin nacelles… He watched as the _Enterprise_ slowly glided from the clinging veil of the nebula and gracefully came to rest five hundred meters off his port bow. He looked at the ship and felt a surge of joy he didn't bother to suppress. She was beautiful, simply beautiful.

The subspace static that had been his lone companion while he awaited the arrival of the _Enterprise_ crackled and broke as he was signaled by the ship. Clear and strong, he heard Lieutenant Uhura's voice over the comm, giving the standard ship-to-ship hail. He allowed himself a small sigh at the sound of her voice. How he had missed his friends! Today he would see them all again, as they had been in their youth. A part of him longed to look into their bright faces once more and remember the days when they had served together. But another part of him ached at the thought, because these weren't really the same people he had known and cherished. Those people were dead and gone, lost to him either through the passage of time or through his journey into this universe. To remain in the presence of their doubles for too long would be to dwell on what was past, and nothing fruitful could be gained from that pursuit.

The hail came again, stirring Spock from his thoughts. He answered and received docking permission and instructions. Quickly he maneuvered behind the ship, taking in the sight of the subtle curves that graced her form, a contrast to the sharp, clean lines of his _Enterprise_. He guided his tiny shuttle into the hangar bay, noting that it was much larger on this ship than it had been on his. As Spock donned his formal travelling robe and powered down the engines, he wondered what other differences he would observe.

When he disembarked from the shuttle, he found the command staff, attired in dress uniform, waiting in a neat line for him. An honor guard was also in attendance, granting him the formal welcome of an honored dignitary. Déjà vu struck him as he descended the ramp. Once he had been the one standing in dress uniform, awaiting the arrival of a Vulcan ambassador. That ambassador had been his father, and Sarek had ignored him, just as he had for the previous eighteen years. Spock had hidden the pain of the rebuff, but he had not denied that he had felt it.

He took all of them in as he approached, noting that they were not ordered by rank as they typically would be. Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy stood side by side, their heads bowed together as they quietly conferred. Next to the doctor stood Commander Spock, who looked completely at ease standing in the middle of the hangar bay in dress uniform. He wondered if his alter felt as nervous as he did… Lieutenant Uhura stood beside the commander, bringing up the end of the line.

As Spock came to stand in front of Kirk, McCoy moved back and he noticed that one of the doctor's hands was tucked behind his back, most likely already spread in the formal Vulcan greeting of the ta'al. He had never been able to get it quite right…

"Ambassador," Kirk said with a warm smile, "it is a pleasure to welcome you aboard the _Enterprise_." Spock couldn't help but notice the dark circles under Kirk's eyes and immediately he was concerned for the young captain. Kirk had taken command of the ship at a much younger age than in his own timeline, and it appeared the stresses were taking their toll. He would have to speak with him before he left and see what, if anything, he could do to help his old friend.

"It is a pleasure to be here, Captain Kirk," he replied honestly. The captain flashed a wide smile at him as he inclined his head towards the rest of the officers lined up to greet him.

"May I introduce a few members of my crew?" Kirk said, his tone light. Spock lifted an eyebrow at the captain, silently acknowledging the joke, and began to walk down the line of officers.

Beside the captain, McCoy pulled at his stiff satin dress collar with one hand, looking every bit as uncomfortable as he had all those years and a universe ago. As he came to stand in front of the doctor, McCoy's hidden hand shot from behind his back, his fingers painfully spread in a close approximation of the Vulcan salute. It would have been an almost perfect greeting had it not been for the grin plastered across the doctor's face.

"Live long and prosper, Ambassador," McCoy drawled in halting Vulcan, drawing a surprised look from Kirk.

"Peace and long life, Doctor McCoy," he replied in Vulcan, returning the gesture. "I thank you for greeting me in my native tongue. I am honored."

"Uh, what?" McCoy said, reverting back to Standard. Looking a little lost and apologetic, he hooked a thumb towards the young Vulcan standing next to him. "Begging your pardon, sir, but he only taught me that bit. So you'll have to speak in Standard or I'm gonna think you've got something caught in your throat."

"That's what you get for showing off, Bones," Kirk murmured under his breath.

"I was just trying to be polite and show the proper respect, Jim!" McCoy said as he turned to glare at the captain.

The Ambassador caught sight of Uhura looking down at the deck, trying her best to hide the smile blooming across her face and failing. Kirk didn't even attempt to conceal his smirk.

"I should have known you were settin' me up," McCoy grumbled at the younger Vulcan, who merely regarded the doctor with a raised eyebrow before he looked away.

Spock felt a pang of nostalgia then, watching these younger versions of himself and his friends interact. The familiar pattern of feuding between the younger Spock and this universe's McCoy pulled at him the most. He had enjoyed their endless rounds of verbal thrust and parry, and he missed them. What he would give for another round with the doctor just one more time…

In front of him, the younger Vulcan raised his hand in greeting, which he returned in kind.

"Greetings, Ambassador Selek," his counterpart said in Standard, using the name he had adopted when he had joined the Vulcans, "The colony honors us with your presence. We come to serve."

The words were almost the exact same ones he had spoken to his father so long ago, and they struck him like a dagger to the heart. He must make certain that this Spock and Sarek never fell into the same pattern of bitter silence that had claimed the relationship between him and his father. He would spare them both that pain.

"The honor is mine, Commander Spock," he replied. "But I believe you are mistaken. It is I that comes to serve."

The commander nodded ever so slightly in acknowledgement, and Spock moved down the line to speak with Lieutenant Uhura.

This was a difference: Uhura had rarely attended formal greetings for dignitaries. Perhaps the protocol was different here, or maybe she held another position in this universe. Whatever the reason, he was glad to see her. They had been good friends for many years.

"Welcome to the _Enterprise_, Ambassador Selek," she said, her voice music to his ears.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Uhura," he answered. "I am pleased to be here." He gave her a nod and allowed the tiniest hint of a smile to touch his lips. She smiled back in response and cast a sideways glance at the commander standing next to her. His alter glanced at her with minimal movement of his head, and he thought that Uhura's playful smile also looked a little smug…

"Guards dismissed," he heard Kirk say behind him to the security team, and he turned to watch as they filed out. There were some familiar faces in the line- Leslie, Combs, Patel, Duran- along with ones unfamiliar to him, including a Deltan and an Andorian. As the last of the guards exited the hangar bay and the doors swished shut, he heard McCoy clear his throat in a blatant attempt to gain his attention. He turned and regarded the doctor openly.

"So, Ambassador, do you want the grand tour that Jim's itchin' to give you first, or should we head down to Sickbay?" Spock watched as the doctor tugged at the stiff dress collar, obviously ready to get out of his dress uniform.

"I would like to speak with the Ambassador for a moment, Doctor," the younger Spock interrupted, "if you do not mind."

McCoy made a dismissive sound and shrugged. "Sure, Spock. I figure you're kind of holdin' the trump card here, so go ahead." He turned and motioned for the others to follow suit. Kirk readily joined him, Uhura trailing a few steps behind.

"Ambassador," the younger Vulcan said in their native tongue, hands going behind his back.

"Commander," he replied, adopting the same posture. "What did you wish to discuss?"

"I would ask why you abstained from the vote regarding my inclusion in the breeding program," his counterpart stated bluntly, his body language tense. "In all other instances, you cast a negative vote. Why did you not continue to do so?"

"I abstained in your case because I do not wish to interfere in your life," the ambassador replied. "Were I to cast a vote either way, I feel I would have been making a decision regarding you and your affairs, something I have avoided whenever possible."

Spock watched as the younger Vulcan frowned slightly and nodded as he considered his words. His posture had even relaxed a little. An eyebrow lifted on his alter's face and he gazed directly at him.

"You almost make it sound like you are following some variant of the Prime Directive in regards to me," the commander said thoughtfully.

Now it was Spock's turn to frown and nod as he considered.

"Essentially, that is correct," he replied. "You need to be allowed to live your life unhindered by the experiences I had in mine. This is the primary reason I do not contact you often."

"An admirable goal. I commend you for it."

Spock bowed his head slightly in acceptance of the compliment. "Were there other things you wished to discuss, Commander?"

"Negative," his counterpart replied. "Except … I would like to express my gratitude to you for undertaking this action on my behalf."

"One does not thank logic, Spock," he murmured softly. "However, you are welcome."

Far behind them, McCoy was complaining loudly about the discomfort that his dress uniform was causing him. Spock watched as his alter cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the doctor and then turned back to look at him. "Perhaps it would be best if we went to Sickbay before Doctor McCoy becomes even more disagreeable. I would be willing to escort you, if you so desire."

"Not just yet, Commander," he said. "While we have this unique opportunity, I would speak with you about a certain subject. I do not wish to meddle in your life, but there is something you should know." This next part was not going to be easy…

"I am aware," he continued, "that your parents did not choose a bondmate for you in your youth."

Spock watched as his counterpart straightened, a sign that he was uncomfortable with the subject matter. It had been a delicate subject for him as well when he was young, but it had to be discussed.

"When your Time comes," he continued, regardless of the other's discomfort, "do not wait. Pon farr does not ease if you attempt to ignore its presence or delay its onset."

His counterpart looked frozen to the spot. The Vulcan mask was firmly in place, but behind it the younger Spock's eyes showed surprise and a hint of fear. Had he ever been this easy to read? Undoubtedly. Perhaps even more so.

"I take it from your words that you have experienced pon farr?" his alter finally asked.

"I have," Spock answered honestly. "Many times, in fact."

"I… see. That we should be subservient to the ancient drives is… regrettable. I had hoped my Human heritage would spare me this. Apparently, this is not be the case."

"I too had hoped to be spared," Spock said gently to his younger counterpart. "But I was not. As we are genetically the same being, it is only logical to presume that you will also experience it. When you feel its onset, do not hesitate. Take a mate, even if only for a temporary liaison. You may find that it can actually be quite… pleasant."

The younger Vulcan opened his mouth to speak, but closed it before uttering a sound, a look of confusion briefly crossing his features. Spock watched as the commander cast a quick glance over his shoulder in the direction of his assembled crewmates, noting that Uhura had turned around to look at them. Indeed, he realized that she had been standing in such a position that she could casually observe them the entire time. And now she and the commander were looking at one another. She made a move to leave the company of her comrades and join them, but the other Spock barely raised his hand and she held her place, slowly turning back around to face her companions but keeping the two of them in her peripheral vision.

Why had the younger Spock looked at her when he mentioned pon farr and finding a mate? And why had she been watching them- no, not them, but the younger Spock- the entire time? Was it possible that these alternate versions of himself and the lieutenant were engaged in a romantic relationship? Both of his brows shot upwards at the thought and he almost smiled. If so, then perhaps his counterpart would not have to worry too much about pon farr after all…

"May I inquire as to the nature of the relationship between you and the lieutenant?" Spock asked, genuinely curious.

The commander turned around and pulled himself up again, almost seeming to bristle at the inquiry, as though a rival was encroaching on his territory.

"I have no comment on the matter," he replied. Spock looked at the younger Vulcan, noting the challenge in his eyes, and then he did smile at him. Not that a Human would have called it a smile, more a softening of the facial features, but the Vulcan in front of him clearly recognized it as such and reacted by becoming even more stolid.

"Your lack of comment has told me all I need to know," he quipped. He would have said more, but at that moment McCoy began to approach them, the others falling into place behind him.

"Hey, Spock," the doctor called out as he crossed the distance, "if you're done talking to yourself, I kind of need to… ah…" McCoy faltered, looking back and forth between the two of them, a bewildered expression on his face. "Oh hell. This is downright weird. You, Ambassador," he said, pointing a finger at him, "I need _you_ in Sickbay. Now if you'll come with me, please."

Amidst the light laughter from the small group, the Ambassador spared a final look at his younger counterpart. But he was already moving off to join Lieutenant Uhura, who stood almost a meter back from the rest of the party. Spock watched as she reached out and briefly touched the younger Vulcan. It was no more than the slightest brush of her fingertips against his sleeve, but it was a gesture that spoke of intimacy and familiarity. In his own timeline, the lieutenant had rarely touched him, and only then when he had been in some kind of distress. He watched as his younger self turned his head to her, his softened gaze meeting hers.

Spock knew well how he behaved when he was in love. He knew the signs. The body language, the mannerisms, the liberties he would permit that under other circumstances would be all but forbidden. He saw those signs now, between the commander and the lieutenant. It was fascinating to view them as an outside observer.

And now he understood exactly why this Spock did not wish to comply with the order. Most of the Vulcans that had declined had done so because they were required to breed outside of the bond with their mate. Watching this younger version of himself with the lieutenant, he understood that this Spock had already found a mate, one who accepted him just as he was. This Spock had not been bound to T'Pring as a child: he had been free to choose a partner on his own, an option he had been denied. And even after he was freed, he had not availed himself of the opportunity to take a bondmate. He had lived without that opportunity for so long that it had become second nature for him to be alone.

"Please tell me you two weren't that bad in your day," the doctor said as the doors slid aside and they walked out into the corridor.

"No, we were not," he replied honestly. He did not mention that he and Uhura had only been friends, and now he found himself regretting that they had never shared anything more.

Spock found his thoughts drifting to the apparent relationship between the Spock and Uhura of this universe. It was clear to him now what he could have had, and that he had been a fool. He was simultaneously pleased and jealous, neither of which did he try to suppress. Silently, he wished them luck as the turbolift opened across from Sickbay.

McCoy showed him to a diagnostic bed in the privacy of the currently empty intensive care unit while he went to change out of dress uniform in his office. He lay back on the bed and listened as the panels blossomed to life above him. Barely a minute had passed before McCoy returned, back in uniform, smoothing down his rumpled hair with one hand while he carried a tray with various medical instruments and several hypos in the other. Three hypos lay side by side, while a fourth was placed on the other side of the tray, far apart from the others.

Spock watched as the doctor took a number of detailed readings. After several minutes of noncommittal grunts from the physician, McCoy finally commented.

"I can see you've been taking those supplements like I asked you to," McCoy said as he picked up a hypo from a tray and held it up for him to see.

"Now this one will help disguise the fact that the sample is coming from a subject somewhat older than the one the Vulcans are expecting. Hopefully those arrogant bastards will chalk up some of these differences to the fact that our commander is a hybrid and that he's just as tainted as they always thought."

Spock watched as the doctor replaced the first hypo on the tray and retrieved a second one.

"This one will help make up for the lowered sperm count. Yes, you've been taking supplements to help with that, but this will help even more. I figure as long as we can give them at least one vial, then they can just shut the hell up. They oughta be glad he didn't pull his stubborn as a mule routine and flat out refuse like he originally wanted to. Jim thought he should fight the order in court, but Spock said he didn't want to go through all the appeals. Can't say I blame him there."

"And last but not least," McCoy said as he held up a third hypo, "this little baby just plain makes you feel good. Now this won't hurt. Much."

The ambassador closed his eyes as McCoy discharged the contents of the first hypo against his arm. No sooner had the hypo been pulled away than he heard the door swish open, accompanied by the sound of two sets of booted footsteps.

He looked up to see Kirk and his counterpart enter the room, both of them back in standard uniform. The younger Spock immediately went to lie down on the biobed next to his and Kirk came over to stand next to McCoy, who had not yet left his side. He looked up at the captain, who was studying the readouts on the panel with the doctor.

"Everything look okay, Bones?" Kirk asked and received a nod in reply.

"Yep, Jim, he's fit as a fiddle," McCoy said. "There's no reason the Ambassador can't go for a swim in the gene pool."

Spock watched as McCoy moved to the other biobed. Beside him, Kirk looked down and placed a hand on his shoulder and a hip on his bed. Spock took in the captain's wide, tired smile and again he felt concern for the young Human.

"Thank you for doing this in his place," Kirk said quietly, motioning in the direction of the younger Spock with a brief tilt of his head. "It means a lot to him. Not that he'd ever tell you or anything…" 

"He had very logical reasons why I should be the one to contribute in his stead," Spock said, enjoying the feeling of Kirk's hand on his shoulder. So many times in the past Kirk had rested his hand there, in an unasked for gesture of comfort or solidarity, one friend lending support to another.

But Kirk was getting up, removing his hand as he swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"So, he had _logical_ reasons for cheating, hmm?" Kirk teased. "Why that's … fascinating!" Spock rolled his head on the pillow and watched as the captain walked over to the commander's bedside.

"Well, whaddya know? Not only did you cheat, you got someone else to do it for you. And it was the _logical_ thing to do. Damn, but you're good!" Kirk chuckled and patted the other Vulcan on the shoulder before he moved towards the door.

"Let me know when you're done with them, Bones," Kirk said, pausing just outside of

sensor range of the door. "I want to show the Ambassador around." And then Kirk turned,

walked through the opening door, and was gone.

"Everything looks good so far," McCoy said him as he looked up at the biomonitor above his bed. "Ready for the next one?"

"Of course, Doctor," Spock replied. Almost immediately the second hypo was discharged against his arm. McCoy put the emptied hypo back down on the tray, retrieved the one that had been separated from the others, and headed over to the commander's bedside.

"I believe you are overdue for your contraceptive shot, First Officer Spock," McCoy drawled. "You ready to rectify that?"

"That is an illogical query, Doctor, as I would not otherwise be here."

"Last time I waste my bedside manner on an unappreciative Vulcan," the doctor grumbled as he placed the hypo against the younger Spock's neck.

"Such restraint in the future would be appreciated," Spock's alter said as the contents of the hypo were discharged. McCoy walked back to the Ambassador's bedside, dropped the empty hypo on the tray, and picked up the last one.

"Now tell me honestly, Ambassador, did you give your Doctor McCoy this much shit?" McCoy teased as looked at the readings again.

"I merely stated facts, Doctor McCoy," Spock replied, noting that the younger Vulcan was now sitting up on his biobed and rubbing at the side of his neck, a look of mild discomfort on his face.

McCoy shook his head and sighed. "That means 'yes'. Here I am, trapped in here with two Spocks! And me just a poor old country doctor…"

"I'm not letting the two of you gang up on me," McCoy said to the younger Spock, "so that means one of you has to get out of here. Since you're done and just taking up bedspace needed for sick people, you need to get out of here. Go on, now! Shoo!"

"Thank you, Doctor," the commander said, one eyebrow rising in amusement. Spock watched as his counterpart neatly slid off the bed, landed on his feet, and made his way out the door.

"Okay, looks like you're ready," McCoy said. "How about we get this out of the way, hmm?"

"I couldn't agree more," Spock murmured, ready and willing to contribute to the survival of his species.

Two hours later, Spock was finishing up the tour of the _Enterprise_ with Captain Kirk. They had covered the ship from stem to stern, and while much of it was familiar to the Ambassador, other portions were completely foreign. The changes in Engineering fascinated him, and the Bridge was much larger and brighter than the one he had served on. However, despite the differences, the _Enterprise_ was essentially still the same ship.

Finally, they arrived at the Observation Lounge and the end of the tour. Outside the thick bulkheads of transparent aluminum, the Mutara Nebula swirled around them like an ocean of fuchsia and cerulean ink. Spock paused at one of the viewports to gaze out at the nebula, Kirk by his side. He shifted his gaze from the nebula to the Human's reflection. The captain appeared haggard and uneasy, and Spock was about to inquire as to what was upsetting him when Kirk spoke.

"Spock…" Kirk began, then looked around as though uncertain how to proceed. Spock turned to look at the young captain, watching as the Human ran a nervous hand over his hair and sighed, then pursed his lips as though considering what to say. To Spock, the captain looked scared, something he had rarely seen.

"Does something happen here, in the Mutara Nebula?" Kirk finally blurted. "I've been anxious since we got here two weeks ago. I haven't slept worth a damn, and I can't shake this feeling of… of… _dread_, like we're in some kind of danger here. Spock, I don't like asking you this, but does something happen here that I can avoid?"

Spock regarded the young counterpart of the friend that had known him so well in his own universe. This young man, burdened with so much responsibility, so much weight on his shoulders… and now this. Somehow, he had picked up on part of what had taken place here. Kirk could have only come by that knowledge from him, and only from the brief meld they had shared on Delta Vega.

He had sought to impart what he knew about Nero and the destruction of Romulus, but somehow Kirk had garnered this stray fragment of information as well. It should not surprise him. Nero was his Khan, the one so bent on vengeance against him that nothing except death would stop him. Nero would haunt his dreams and memories until he joined with the All, just as he knew the phantom of Khan had never stopped stalking Kirk in his sleep. Spock had realized that while standing on the icy plains of Delta Vega, watching helplessly as Vulcan vanished forever from the sky. He must have inadvertently transferred that thought, that _feeling_, to Kirk, and now the young man was suffering because of it.

Spock considered carefully what to say. He could say nothing and allow events to unfold as they had in his universe. It was quite possible that the crew of this _Enterprise_ would never encounter Khan. But if they did and Kirk marooned him out of pity again, would this Khan also come looking for revenge? And would this Spock have to make the same decision he had made, to step into the reactor chamber and lay down his life so that others might live?

But things could not be the same here, even if those events occurred exactly as they had in his universe, without even the slightest deviation. Spock was certain that his counterpart would not place his _katra_ in McCoy. He had only done so as a split-second decision, knowing that it would be extracted from the doctor at Mount Seleya. But Mount Seleya and the priestesses who resided there were gone, lost when Vulcan was destroyed. With that avenue closed, the other Spock would perish in the chamber, and his _katra_ would be lost along with his life.

"Jim," he said at last, "it is possible that you will encounter an individual who identifies himself as Khan." Spock paused, choosing his next words carefully.

"If you meet Khan Noonien Singh, I would implore you not to show him the leniency or the mercy to which you may be inclined. In my universe, you did, and many innocent lives were lost. To prevent those deaths, you must not let him live if you find him. Kill him and those with him, as well as those that would join with them. To do anything less sows the seeds of sorrow."

"Oh god," Kirk whispered, his eyes closing as he gripped the rail in front of him and briefly bowed his head under the weight of Spock's words. Almost immediately, however, Kirk looked back up and turned to face him, determination evident in his eyes.

"Are you sure there's no other way?" Kirk asked quietly. "I mean, what if I marooned him somewhere without a ship, or-"

"No, Jim," Spock interrupted. "I do not believe there is any other choice, which I genuinely regret. You wished to know what happened here, at the Mutara Nebula? We fought Khan. Many members of the crew died … and I died with them."

Kirk stared at him in stunned silence, anguish written all over his face.

"You … died … here? Then how is it that you're here, if you died?"

"Through an unforeseen side effect of a device that has not yet been invented and an ancient Vulcan technique that perished with our planet," he answered. "Jim, I do not task you with this lightly, but if you do encounter Khan, it must be done. He must die."

Kirk looked away again, appearing to stare into the nebula, but Spock knew that he was focused inward instead, working on the problem and trying to find another solution.

"I have to think about this and it's going to take some time," Kirk murmured. "I can't just do this because you said it needs to be done. I'm sure you can understand that."

Spock glanced over at the young Human by his side, recalling a time when he had pronounced the need for someone else to die to serve the greater good. Kirk had been in love with Edith Keeler, but in the end he realized her death would save millions. The captain looked as haunted now as he had then, and Spock hated to do this to him. But there was no other solution that he could see.

"I would expect no less, Captain," Spock said. "Whenever possible, you always weighed all the options open to you and never operated on blind faith."

Kirk turned to look at him then, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips. "It sounds like there's hope for me yet," he said. Spock recognized the attempt at humor as a way for Kirk to ease his tensions. He favored the Human with a thoughtful frown and nodded.

"Indeed," he replied. He was about to say more, but a shrill whistle from the comm drew their attention. Together they made their way to the comm, which Kirk answered.

"McCoy here," the doctor's voice said. "I've got a package ready for transport for the Ambassador. Do the two of you want to come here and pick it up, or should I come deliver it to you?" Kirk cast a glance in his direction, silently asking him to decide.

"I would prefer to meet us in the shuttlecraft bay, Doctor," Spock said.

"Of course," McCoy replied. "Meet you there in five minutes. McCoy out."

As they turned from the comm and the view of the nebula outside the window and headed for the turbolift, Kirk cleared his throat. Spock turned to look at him as they walked.

"While you're warning me about things I need to avoid," Kirk asked a little hesitantly, "is there anything else I need to know about? Any wars I need to prevent, plagues I need to cure?"

Spock considered what to say. He could warn them about the Borg, maybe even circumvent the Dominion War… But what if by speaking about these things, he hastened them instead? The Federation had barely survived those horrors, and that was with 24th century technology. If he brought them into those conflicts sooner, many more billions might perish through death or assimilation than would have if he had remained silent. Sometimes having foreknowledge of certain events was a terrible burden.

Spock shook his head in the negative. Now was not the time to speak about what might lie ahead. He needed to consider and weigh the possible consequences before he spoke. When he arrived back at the colony, he would discuss this in depth with T'Pol. She was often able to see things he could not, and he found her perspective to be most insightful.

When they arrived at the shuttlecraft bay, they found McCoy waiting for them by Spock's shuttle, a small pouch in his hands. The doctor bounced lightly on his heels and smiled at them.

"Here you go, Ambassador," McCoy said as he held the pouch out to Spock. The Vulcan took the pouch and opened it, noting that it bore two specimen vials, of which only one was filled.

"I wish to thank you for all your help, Doctor. I believe this would not have been possible without your assistance."

McCoy made a small, dismissive noise and shrugged. "I'm just doin' my job," he said. "Now if you gentlemen will pardon me, I need to get back to Sickbay. A pleasure meeting you, Ambassador."

"It was a pleasure seeing you again… Bones," Spock replied, watching as the doctor's eyebrows rose and he swallowed uncomfortably. McCoy looked as though he was going to speak, then thought better of it and beat a hasty retreat towards the exit.

"I think you liked doing that to him," Kirk said lightly as the doors slid shut behind McCoy. "As a matter of fact, I think you've always doing that. Am I right, Spock?"

"I do not believe I am liberty to discuss such matters, Captain," Spock replied, the Vulcan mask firmly in place.

Kirk laughed and patted him on the shoulder once again.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," the Human said as he turned to face him in farewell. Instead of giving Spock the Vulcan salute, Kirk extended his hand. Spock took his hand in his and shook it in the Human manner for several seconds before Kirk loosened his grip. Spock did the same and let his hand return to his side.

"Be well, Spock," Kirk said with a smile.

"I shall endeavor to do so. Please do the same, Jim."

Kirk nodded and walked a few paces away, giving him his own form of leave. Spock turned and entered his shuttle, where he began the automatic power-up procedures. While the shuttle's engines cycled back into active mode, he removed his formal travelling robe and opened the small stasis chamber placed in the aft section of the small shuttle. Inside the container, a dozen small tubes were carefully nestled in protective packaging, each of them neatly labeled as to who had provided the material and when and where it had been acquired. There was more than one Vulcan who had agreed to contribute to the reproduction of the species but had not agreed to join the colony. Two empty slots remained, and he filled one of them with the latest sample, leaving the last one vacant. It seemed somehow fitting.

As he powered up and left the _Enterprise_ and glided through the Mutara Nebula, Spock considered his next course of action. There were still other things for him to do in this universe besides help his people. He had found the colony world, and he was making a genetic contribution to the continued survival of their species as well. Children would come from his body now, something he thought would never happen. Within a year's time, if all went well, he would actually get to hold an infant he had fathered, a brand new living being that could not have been created without his help. He felt his heart race increase in anticipation of the event, eager to assist in any way possible. And while he had some small experience raising a child, he had not been Saavik's biological father, as much as he had wished to be.

Spock closed his eyes and sighed. Saavik.

Was she in this universe? In his timeline, the Romulan Tal'Shiar had captured Vulcans and imprisoned them on a desolate planet codenamed Hellguard. They had tortured and forced their Vulcan captives to breed with them as part of an experiment to infiltrate the Federation. The experiment had ultimately failed, the few Vulcans who had survived the experience had been murdered, and the resulting Vulcan/Romulan offspring had been abandoned and left to die, Saavik among them. If the Romulans had done the same here, then there were other Vulcans survivors, and he must find them.

She would only be an infant now, but Spock clearly recalled the first time he had seen her. She had stared at him from the edge of the fire, too afraid to come any closer but too curious to run and hide like the other children. She was starved, naked, and filthy like the others, but there had been the undeniable gleam of intelligence in her eyes. He had left an opened ration bar for her and watched as she devoured it in a matter of seconds and disappeared back into the night. He had known then that he must save her and the others like her, no matter what it took.

He had to discover if the Romulans had done the same in this timeline. If so, he must find their victims- the children and the captured Vulcans alike- and bring them to the colony. There was no one else to do it, and if he did nothing they would suffer and perish. He had seen enough of that to last a lifetime.

Spock looked out at the stars as he exited the nebula and sped towards the colony on autopilot. "I will find you, Saavik-kam," he whispered to the eternal night. He could do no less.

There was more to being a member of an endangered species than mere procreation, Spock mused as he engaged the shuttle's warp engines. Those that still lived needed to be protected, by any means necessary. If it meant charging Kirk with the duty of killing Khan to save his counterpart in this universe, then so be it. He could only do so much on his own. He had to help his people in their quest for survival at the same time as he searched for Saavik and the others that had been left for dead on Hellguard. None of what lay ahead would be easy for his people to deal with, but they would have to adapt if they were to survive. Some of the acts the Vulcans would have to engage in would be ones of sheer desperation, but there was little else left to an endangered species. It was the only logical course left open to them. Spock only hoped it would be enough.


End file.
